


as always, you are next to me

by rainbundles



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Short One Shot, but they are there :(, emotional support jisung to the rescue, hyunjin and changbin arent mentioned by name, i cant write angst so nothing to worry about!, i wrote this because i was emo abt the survival show, kind of soft? i guess, like maybe 0.5 seconds of angst, me crying NINE, minho working too hard, survival show era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbundles/pseuds/rainbundles
Summary: Lee Minho almost gets eliminated. Almost. There's nothing more he wants then to prove he deserves to stay.There's nothing more Jisung wants than for Minho to be free from the struggles of the past year, even for a moment.-alternatively, the survival show has worn down on minho and jisung Knows whats upwritten from a prompt: "what are you doing still up?"





	as always, you are next to me

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic im posting to ao3! please be nice to me i struggle in the face of criticism lol,,
> 
> this is not my first skz fic, or even fic in general but i havent finished any of the others so lo and behold this one comes first
> 
> if you clicked it, then thank you! somuch, seriously
> 
> this really isnt spectacular (result of me trying to return to the writing swing after maybe a year? without writing) so i am v sorry for that

 

The night began as the happiest of his life. Thank god, he hadn’t been forced away from his friends. Thank god, he’d been given a second chance. Thank god, it was over. He’d never felt so stressed in his 20 years. He’d stood centre stage, with only the company of his younger friend beside him who was facing the same fate. The lights shone on them only, making the sweat which ran down his cheeks so much more prominent, making it so much more obvious that tears were forming in his eyes as he stood, his legs moments away from giving way underneath him. The tension was too much, and he could feel it radiating from the younger boy beside him as well. They both were thinking the same thing, and Minho knew it. He could feel it in the way the boy anxiously tugged at his red flannel shirt, the way he cast his eyes to the floor. They both thought that their journey would end there.

 

Yet they stood, facing the man who had all of their hopes and dreams dancing in his palm. With one clench of his fist, he could crush them, destroying them forever. The frozen wind made it difficult for Minho to move, his hair was already plastered to his face from sweat, becoming uncomfortably cold on his forehead. Dully, he wondered if he’d freeze in place, deaf to whatever Park Jinyoung had to say. Park Jinyoung stared at them, his gaze harsh and unreadable, and when Minho couldn’t even find the ghost of a smile on his face, he’d figured that it was all over. He’d be split off from his friends, forced to watch them succeed from the distance, aching for a do-over as they continued without him. 

 

Jinyoung finally spoke, and with each word, Minho grew weaker, using every last ounce of willpower to not curl in on himself.

 

“You’ve improved, but you’re still not good enough.” The words were a punch to the gut. Minho had worked tirelessly. Daily, he had stayed late practising and training through to the night until the early hours of the morning. He shoved all of his effort into becoming what he needed to be, just so he could be with his friends, so he could show what he had to offer to Jinyoung and the rest of the world. Next to him, his younger friend, Felix’s face grew slack. Felix had worked just as hard as he had, he knew it. He knew it from the nights the boy had spent reading korean books and studying, from the days where he and Minho would run through vocabulary until his pronunciation was crystal clear. He knew Jinyoung’s words crushed the younger just as much they did himself.

 

“Compared to the other seven, you two are _still_ lacking. To keep you in the team would be dragging the rest of them down. Without you, they are flawless. You must understand, that seven seems to be better than nine in this way.”

 

 _No,_ Minho had begged in his head. _It can’t be over, it can’t. I worked so hard. I poured everything into this._ The denial was the beginning, before the reality crashed over him, making his chest tight as he gasped for air, directing his eyes to the ceiling. _I let them all down again. I was given this chance, and I couldn’t do it. I failed the members. I failed the PD. I failed my last opportunity._ He felt a hand suddenly grip his jacket, and spared a glance at Felix, who’d taken on a deathly pale colour. For once, seeing the younger's freckles stand out on his face wasn't a good thing.  _I’m so sorry, Felix._

 

Minho had almost grown deaf with his thoughts thumping in his head, but was jerked back to reality when Jinyoung continued, having paused to take a drink of water.

 

“But,” Minho vaguely registered Felix sucking in a breath, but his eyes were glued to Park Jinyoung, who still remained expressionless as he spoke. The animated wrinkles of his forehead were flattened, his intense brown eyes burning through Minho’s skin despite the severe cold of the Winter.

 

“As nine, there is an indescribable energy. While you are flawed as nine and perfect as seven, there is a spark as nine that reminds me of the reason I chose this group as my project in the first place. I have made my final decision.”

 

Minho finally dared to drag his eyes away from Jinyoung, and over to the side of the stage, where the other seven stood in darkness, their eyes all trained on Minho and Felix. Minho’s eyes met Jisung’s first. Jisung stared with wide eyes, before snapping to reality and managing a weak smile. Somehow, it made Minho feel worse. _Don’t smile. It’s my fault we’re in this situation,_ he wanted to call out. _I’m sorry, Jisung._ Minho wished Jisung could read those words on his face, but he was certain the only thing he was truly expressing right now was despair and anxiety. Jisung tilted his cap up, drawing Minho’s attention, before opening both of his hands, with the thumb tucked in on his left hand. Nine fingers. Nine people. Jisung dipped his head in a slight nod, and in spite of himself, the slightest smile tugged at the corners of Minho’s lips, causing Jisung’s face to light up in return.

 

That moment, however, was fleeting, as Jinyoung cleared his throat and the anxiety flooded back into him, shudders beginning to wrack his body harder than before.

 

“I’ve decided. Stray kids will debut with…” Jinyoung paused, settling the mic down and pressing his hands flat against the desk. It was on purpose, Minho was fully aware, as the show needed the pause for dramatic effect, yet it still felt so harshly unfair. What Jinyoung was to say next would determine how much Minho’s past year of working until the point of exhaustion regularly added up to. How much he was worth. For all he knew, after being told time and time again that his efforts still lead to him letting the team down, it could’ve all been for nothing. Jinyoung rolled the microphone in his hand, cruelly, drinking in Minho and Felix’s weakened states without even the slightest hint of remorse. He didn’t feel bad for them. He didn't know how much this meant to them. To cut them out would be just another day where the two would return to the company as trainees. There was no way it'd ever effect the PD the way it would Minho and Felix.

 

The lights on the two of them grew brighter, highlighting the sweat which dripped down Minho’s chin. For too long, Jinyoung was toying with the two of them, as if they were meaningless, as if they didn’t have feelings. With each passing second, Minho’s legs grew heavier, his heart thudding up his throat until he was certain that it would leap out and have him collapse on the spot. Was this kind of cruelty really that entertaining? Time was passing slower, each second a minute. 

 

Finally, Jinyoung lifted the mic back to his mouth, although when he opened his mouth no words came out. His eyes flickered between Minho, Felix, and the seven which stood shielded under the shaded area of the stage, away from the pressure of the spotlight, safe from Jinyoung’s wrath.

 

Everything that had built for so long, as if Minho had been standing on that stage for months, passed within the blink of an eye. It was so fast, the way Jinyoung’s face finally betrayed emotion as his mouth twisted into a smirk, the way the word had been spoken with such decisive certainty, like there’d never been a trace of doubt surrounding it in the first place.

 

“Nine.”

 

Just like that, it was done. Relief loosened the stiffness that had plagued his body. When he breathed in, it felt like it was the first breath of oxygen he’d taken all night, a soothing and pleasant relaxation rushing into his lungs. Felix bounced on the balls of his feet besides him, and when they faced each other, Minho saw the widest grin had covered half of Felix’s face, so broad that it almost looked painful. Minho hadn’t even noticed that the exact same grin was mirrored onto his own face.

 

Jinyoung’s congratulations to them were drowned out by the pounding in his ears, his heart pulsing loud as he turned to face the seven which hurled towards the two. Nine, reunited. Nine, as it should be.

 

Jisung rushed towards him and gripped Minho tightly, pressing his face against his shoulder. “Nine minus two is zero,” he whispered into Minho’s ear, his voice shaky and thick with emotion. A wet laugh bubbled past Minho’s lips before he could stop it, and he gripped Jisung back, bringing the boy’s trembling frame closer to his own. Although their voices were blurred, Minho could hear the others crying out to them, telling them never to leave again, their voices sounding as sobs.

 

As Jisung released him, more hands reached towards him, grabbing at his clothes and arms almost desperately, and he could see his and Felix’s joy reflected in their faces. Tears stained everyone’s cheeks. They were a family as nine, a family where no one gets left behind.

 

“I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

 

“If you’d been left behind I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.”

 

“We’re incomplete without you.”

 

“We need you more than you realise, more than _I_ realised.”

 

“Don’t you dare scare me like that again. Ever.”

 

“Nine minus two is zero.”

 

All clinging to each other tightly, Minho knew that this was how he wanted to stay forever. These were the people he wanted to work with for the rest of his life, these were the people who inspired him the most.

 

The painful beauty of emotions is their lack of permanency, the way they move on and change colours even if you wish they’d freeze in time with you. With the immense joy would next come the crash back down.

 

After the best dinner Minho had ever had, celebrating, laughing and crying with his friends, and most importantly stuffing himself full of chicken and ramen, they had to return home. As much as they wanted to stay up and continue to celebrate the night away, they agreed that they were all exhausted, physically and emotionally. Not exactly shocking, but performing multiple songs with complex choreography _and_ almost being cut off from your closest friends in the same night took quite a toll. The car trip back to the dorm was quiet, several of the members drifting off as they drove. Minho couldn’t, though. Some of the adrenaline - and anxiety - still quietly quivered through him, shaky breaths still frailly escaping him, the sound lost in the tired ears of his friends. He gazed out the window over the amber lights as they flashed by, leaving coloured streaks that lingered against the night sky.

 

When they arrived back Minho turned to wake the others, only to find Jisung peering at him in the darkness. Before Minho could even think about questioning it, Jisung turned, moving his cap down so his eyes weren’t visible and shaking Seungmin who dozed against his side. They filed from the car, although Minho stayed behind to help the youngest, Jeongin, out as he had managed to fall into a deep sleep in the car and wasn’t exactly fully awake when they’d dragged him out of the car, stumbling over his own feet and muttering under his breath. Minho slung an arm around the younger boy’s waist, but still struggled to move forward with Jeongin leaning so heavily against him. Wordlessly, Jisung turned around and slipped to support Jeongin from the other side.

 

“Thanks,” Minho mumbled as they walked towards the dorm’s door. When they entered, Minho’s heart went still. It was real. He was going to keep living here, with all of his friends. He’d only moved back into the dorm a week ago, but had never unpacked his things out of fear for the worst. But now, he knew he could stay. It’d be okay. Jisung lead them down the familiar hallway, steering into their room where the two gently put Jeongin onto his bed.

 

Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his voice slurred yet soft as he whispered, “Don’t leave us, Minho.”

 

“I won’t,” Minho whispered back. “I promise.”

 

Satisfied, Jeongin nodded, closing his eyes again. Jisung pulled a blanket over him, the smile on his face so gentle as he did so, reaching out to ruffle the younger’s frazzled black hair.

 

Stepping back, Minho scanned the room, which had allowed itself to become messy as none of the four members bunking here had been at risk of elimination. The three other beds were empty, home only to piles of scrunched up blankets and stray pillows. “Where did the others go?”

 

“To wash up,” Jisung replied, nodding towards the door. “You weren’t the only one sweating out all of your body fluid up there.” There was a half joking lilt to Jisung’s tone, but Minho knew the truth behind it. As they’d all clutched each other, damp clothes were pressed against each other, everyone clumped together, burying their faces into each other, no-one certain of what was sweat or what was tears anymore. At the time, they couldn’t have cared less, unwilling to let go of one another. For the first time that night Minho could see Jisung properly, the bulbs above them emitting a stable light, his eyes no longer blurred with tears.

 

Jisung had finally taken his cap off. The black hair which sprung from his head that usually bounced when he moved was fixed in place, pressed flat as it swept against his forehead, as though he’d had a bucket of water dumped over him. His makeup was smudged, especially at his eyes which he’d been rubbing at the whole night, the smoky grey eyeshadow making its mark on his cheeks and his hands. The leather he wore creaked uncomfortably as he rubbed his neck. Minho shot a look back to Jeongin’s sleeping figure, and realised that the younger was similar, his hair slick with sweat and dried tears decorating his cheeks.

 

“Do we all look like… this?”

 

“Like shit?” Jisung asked. “Absolutely. But after what we’ve gone through, you can hardly blame us.”

 

Minho couldn’t fault him there, shooting Jisung a crooked smile. “Should we get Jeongin to wash up? He can’t sleep like that.”

 

“I don’t think his child body can take anymore stress,” Jisung sighed, shaking his head at Jeongin. “Poor little guy.”

 

“He’s only a year younger than you,” Minho huffed pointedly, giving Jisung a playful shove. Jisung merely raised his hands in mock defence.

 

“If you wanna wake him and help him out, be my guest, but I think he needs to sleep this one out. We need to sleep too. Especially you, actually.”

 

As much as Minho wanted to rebuke Jisung, there was no way he could think of anything that would justify staying up longer, not after everything that had happened. “Alright. Let’s wash up.”

 

Several minutes worth of taps running and showers later, the lights had at last been turned off at every room in the dorm, the members muttering ‘goodnight’s and ‘I love you’s to each other before retreating to their beds and sinking into silence.

 

And so, Minho’s joy lasted until here. The rollercoaster had reached the peak, and now it was time to go hurtling back down with the wind blasting in his ears.

 

Minho shuffled under his sheets. Despite his best efforts, sleep refused to claim him, time ticking past as he listened to the rhythmic breathing of his roommates, Woojin and Chan. It was comforting to hear them resting up, but he ached to join them. He couldn’t, no matter what he did, his mind kept him awake by relaying the harsh words Park Jinyoung had stabbed him with over the last year. Even though he had made it now, it was so bittersweet, because he was _still_ being told he wasn’t good enough. Sure, he could stay with his friends, and that was incredible, but he knew he was bringing them down. Jinyoung was experienced, he’d been in the industry for longer than Minho had been alive, and he was _right._ Minho dragged the quality of all of his friends performance by not being up to scratch.

 

“Your voice is unstable and you look like you have no confidence.”

 

“You aren’t a good vocalist, but your rapping is bad too? It lacks power.”

 

“An underwhelming and disappointing performance from you, Minho.”

 

“The less you sing, the better it would sound.”

 

“It’s like you didn’t improve at all since the last advice I gave you?”

 

“Compared to the others, you are _still_ lacking. To keep you in the team would be dragging them down. Without you, they are flawless.”

 

Minho knew his parents would have been watching the show, anticipating the success of their only son, only to be shown that he was lacking, that he was letting the team down. All he wanted was to be someone they could be proud of, but yet again he’d humiliated them in front of hundreds of people.

 

Minho sat up, bringing his wrist to his face to wipe the tears that pricked his eyes. Now that he was here and part of the group officially, he _had_ to prove himself. He had to show Park Jinyoung PD - and everyone - that keeping him there was the right choice, that he could improve and keep up with the rest of the group rather than being a detriment to them. Blankly, it dawned on him that there was only one thing he could do to show that. He had to practise. Now, more than ever, he had to work on himself to show his full potential. Park Jinyoung had trusted him to continue on in spite of all of the negative feedback. There was only one way for him to show that Jinyoung had made the right choice.

 

Time was being wasted as long as he lay there, unable to sleep, feeling an untameable desire to do something, _anything_. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach more and more the longer he stayed in place, until the point where he couldn’t stand it anymore and shoved himself out of bed. Pulling his phone from his charger, he carefully grabbed some long pants, socks and a jacket under the dim light of his screensaver, not wanting to risk waking Woojin or Chan.

 

With the clothing items in hand, he slipped out of the room, throwing a look back inside to Woojin and Chan’s bunk, although they thankfully hadn’t stirred. In the bathroom Minho quickly threw the clothes on. Even though he knew it wouldn’t wake them anyways, he was delicate as he pulled them on, trying to minimise the rustling of the fabric as much as he could. Once he was satisfied with how warm he was (he may have needed to steal one of Chan’s scarves), he made his way to the front door where he slid on his shoes, swiping the house key which they left on the dresser by the door. He pushed it open slowly, afraid of it creaking, and stood outside to be greeted with the sharp Winter air of the night.

 

Despite his fingers shaking already with the cold that he had sorely underestimated, he managed to lock the door, turning on his heels to walk the familiar path he had walked so many times before. Luckily, the dorm was just a small walk from the JYP training centre where Minho was headed. The night was hushed, only the sounds of the breeze and the odd car flashing down the road him to keep him company. He kept his hands firmly jammed into his pockets as he walked, trying to shield himself from the icy gust which numbed his ears and stung his eyes. It was somewhat refreshing, to finally feel Winter on his skin, rather than to be coated in stuffy sweat. His eyes were drawn to the stars that were sprinkled over the inky sky, the faint moon glow making it so he could see the clouds of his breath dissipate in front of him. How long had it been since he could soak up the night scenery? He reeled in his mind, concluding that this might’ve been the first time he’d really enjoyed looking at the night since he’d joined JYP.

 

The fantasy of the night faded as he arrived at the doorsteps, the familiar building towering over him. Even in the darkness of night he could feel it, menacing, mocking him. _“Back again?”_ The tall glass doors taunted him, for what wasn’t the first time. With a sigh, he unlocked the door and shoved his way inside.

 

Eerie silence drifted throughout the building as he walked, barren of light and life which it usually bustled with. The hallway he walked down were flanked with closed metal doors, unsettlingly reminiscent of a prison. Minho found himself needing to remind himself that it was so empty because it was the dead of the night, and because there was no-one who needed to practise, not nearly as much as him.

 

Yes, Felix had been up there with him, but Felix’s problem was that he needed to study the language more. Minho? Minho’s problem was _everything._

 

Minho closed in on the most familiar door of all, one that held both memories of happiness and memories of pain behind it. The door labelled “Stray Kids”. For the third time that night, Minho jammed a key into a lock. _If only I could find the key to unlock my talent,_ he thought bitterly as he entered, flicking the lights on and shutting the door behind him. The room was the same as always, glossy wooden floorboards, giant mirror wall that always made him feel so alone. Small table pushed up against the black wall which had the laptop that held their track lists, the songs that they practised to as nine, as eight, as seven. With a shake of his head and a stretch of his hands, Minho turned the laptop on, not hesitating to get started on his work. It would be a long night, but he ached for progress. Something to go off, something to show that he _did_ deserve to keep going. Rolling his shoulders back as the first note of one of their new songs played, it began.

 

Minutes melted into hours, frustration being pent each time his voice wavered, each time a note carried out wrong, each time his voice hitched on his breath as he struggled to time his breathing with his dance. His throat was burning raw, his limbs screaming at him to stop, every muscle aching in agony with each movement, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet, not until he’d gotten it perfect. He was so close now. He sat on the floor, panting, trying to catch his breath before he could start again. When he tried to stand, his body refused, his legs not budging from underneath him, limp and weighted from the unending stress. With a hazy mind he lay flat, unable to conjure coherent thoughts, only hearing a squealing static that pierced his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, willing himself to move, when he heard the door click open. Minho turned to face the sound, wincing at the dull throb in his neck as he did so. He couldn’t make out figure properly, his vision fuzzy and uncooperative. The thin black shape moved towards him, but Minho could hardly flinch away from it, not a speck of energy remaining in his body. Louder and louder, the steps came, until the figure was close enough to crouch down beside him.

 

“What are you doing still up?” Jisung asked, his voice so soft, so calm, as if he were afraid that Minho would shatter if he spoke any louder.

 

“Practising,” Minho tried to reply, his voice leaving him as a pitiful croak.

 

“How long have you been here?” The other boy asked, but his voice was anything but scolding, carrying quiet concern on the edge of his tone. “I went to the toilet and thought I’d check on you on my way back. But you weren’t there, your bed was empty and cold, as if you’d never been there in the first place. For a moment I wondered if I’d dreamed up you staying with us. I wondered if you’d actually been kicked out.” he laughed quietly, the sound utterly empty of glee.

 

“I-”

 

“But I know you well, hyung. You’re too stubborn to give up. I knew you’d be here.”

 

Minho blinked hard, clearing his eyes enough to make out Jisung’s face. Jisung was lying beside him now, and although the boy was smiling, woe clouded his usually bright eyes. Minho opened his mouth, but the words he wanted to speak died on his tongue.

 

“Always working too hard, even when you don’t need to, huh? Well,” Jisung pushed himself up, taking Minho’s arms and pulling him to sit up. “I’ll drag you home if I have to. You know how I said that you looked like shit before? Man, if that was shit, then I don’t even know if there’s a word out there to describe this.”

 

There was the Jisung that Minho recognised, the one who cracked jokes that held a darker truth behind them. Jisung bent down as to be more stable as he pulled Minho to stand, quickly wrapping his arms around the older boy’s waist to ensure he wouldn’t fall, Minho trembling in his arms at the sheer effort of holding himself up. They stood like that for a short time, and Minho could’ve sworn that Jisung’s hold was growing tighter as the seconds passed.

 

When Jisung spoke again, his voice had reduced so that it was barely audible. “You work yourself to death…”

 

Guilt flushed through Minho. He hadn’t been trying to make anyone worry. They’d all had enough worry to suffice for an entire lifetime over the past year alone. “I- I’m sorry,” Minho managed, lethargy dragging his words.

 

With a huff, Jisung pulled Minho around his back, bringing Minho’s arms to form a scarf around his neck and propping Minho’s legs up as he squatted. _A piggyback,_ Minho recognised slowly, tightening his hold with whatever strength remained in his arms. Jisung had gotten a lot stronger, he’d noted, the training cording his lanky body with muscles.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t apologise for trying so hard,” Jisung replied, slightly strained. “You’re not alone anymore, you know?” He began to make his way towards the door, pausing before adding in a voice full of something deeper that Minho couldn’t recognise, “And even if you were, I wouldn’t have left you here.”  

 

A lazy smile crept onto Minho’s face as he allowed his head to rest against Jisung’s neck. Jisung was right. This wasn’t even the first time Jisung had pulled Minho onto his back when he was half asleep. Through it all, the younger boy had always been the first to support him, the first to take his hand, the first to hug him, the first to tell him it’d be okay. And now Minho knew for sure that he wasn’t going to be cut away from him, so maybe it would be okay. He wanted more than anything to believe it.

 

When they stepped outside, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, illuminating the training centre and revealing other tall buildings surrounding, buildings that had no presence when Minho had came in the dead of night. Maybe, just maybe, because Jisung was here with him now, everything was less lonely. Cars streamed along the road more steadily, more purposefully, and the cold of the morning meant nothing when Minho could feel the warmth of Jisung supporting him.

 

Jisung managed to carry him longer than he’d ever done before, making it halfway back to the dorm. Even when he stopped to let Minho down, it felt reluctant. Despite dozing off a little bit, Minho reassured him he’d be fine (it was hardly convincing, but Jisung let it slide) and continued to stagger numbly while leaning heavily against Jisung’s side. The whole way back Jisung rambled about random things, how much prettier the city looked today, how excited he was to finally have made it, how grateful he was for his family of nine. Minho could hardly focus on a single thing Jisung said, the words blending together as he tried to process them, but he couldn’t help but smile regardless as he towed himself along the pavement. Jisung’s voice was so smooth and soothing. It was the first time in a long time where his voice rolled steadily as he spoke, no fragility, stress or worry to be found.

 

“I like your voice,” Minho mumbled mindlessly as they approached the house, his eyelids heavy.

 

“Yeah?” Jisung hummed, amused.  

 

“I hope it always sounds like… this.”

 

Minho felt - rather than saw - Jisung nod as he lead them into the house, “It will, as long as you stop working alone.” He silently agreed with Jisung, although he was too exhausted to even bring his head to nod.

 

Comfortable silence still filled the dorm as everyone remained asleep, Jisung bringing Minho into one of the rooms and lightly resting him on one of the mattresses. Hazily, Minho registered that Jisung hadn’t lead him back into his own room or his own bed, pillows piled around him, the room much larger than his own.

 

 _Oh._ It was the room he’d been in earlier that night to put Jeongin to bed. Jisung’s room. Jisung’s bed. Soft snores from the other three in the room sounded as Jisung slipped the scarf from Minho’s neck and carefully untied his shoes, Minho unable to even move against it, indulging in the plush padding of the mattress against the throbbing stiffness in his back.

 

“Close your eyes,” the boy whispered. Minho easily obliged, sighing at the relief of it. Besides him he felt a sudden dip in the mattress, the weight of another body. Jisung. It wasn’t exactly spacious, but Minho was anything but upset about it. Jisung pulled the blankets over them and threw his arm around Minho, blossoming warmth in Minho’s chest. Minho brought his own arms around Jisung to hug the boy tighter to his chest, moving his head down so that their foreheads touched.

 

He wasn’t sure if he’d said it clearly or not, his brain moving sluggishly, but even so, he needed to say it now more than ever. “Thank you for everything.”

 

Even if Jisung didn’t understand what he'd said, the boy hummed as though he did. “Goodnight, Minho.”

 

With Jisung close to his heart, Minho finally submitted to his exhaustion, drifting off into the depths of sleep.

 

He wasn’t alone.

 

Maybe everything would be okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're down here then thank you SO much for reading! sorry the ending is kinda just plain bad, im not good w endings rip
> 
> i love you and hope u are doing well and take care of yourself <3
> 
> thank u again!!


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